


Your Heart on a Journey Alone

by Darci



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Get in losers we're dealing with trauma, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24237019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darci/pseuds/Darci
Summary: Percy prepares for a date night. He really ought to have known better.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Your Heart on a Journey Alone

Percy bit his lip and tried to remember. Was the end of the tie supposed to go under now, or over? He checked the diagram that was resting against the mirror. Under. Simple enough, he should have known. Carefully he pulled the end of the tie through the small loop and adjusted it to form a flat triangular knot. It _looked_ right… he stepped back and surveyed himself in the mirror. Not bad. Quite nice, if he did say so himself.

Percy had always been a bit fussy about clothes—something which his brothers had teased him for on many memorable occasions—but his nice dressing habits had served him well both at school and work. He wasn’t handsome, he knew, but he at least looked put-together. Tonight was his first time trying Muggle formalwear. His white button-down was crisp and ironed, his dark charcoal grey trousers were the perfect length (something that was usually difficult to achieve given his height), and the tie was a rich deep blue that—wonder of wonders!—complemented his hair colour. His hair was even behaving; normally he had to slick it back and even then could barely make it presentable, but today his ginger curls were defined and shiny, gently cascading over his forehead in a way that managed to bring attention to his blue eyes.

He squinted at the mirror, scrutinizing. He wanted to look perfect tonight. He ran his hand over the shirt again. Did it look wrinkled? No, but now that he was staring it did look rather loose. His mother had long since stopped commenting that he was too skinny, but on the rare occasions he did visit his parents he inexorably found his plate piled with far more food than he had served himself. Now he ran his hand over the slightly billowing fabric and frowned. The waistcoat might fix it. On went a slim-cut waistcoat that matched the trousers. Percy fastened the small black buttons and straightened back up. He looked sleek now, almost elegant. Matthew would like it.

Tonight he and Matthew were going on a date in an upscale Muggle district. Matthew had made the reservations a couple months ago while in a whimsically generous mood, and their relationship had been going quite smoothly since then. They had only fought once a couple of weeks ago, and Percy had worried that they were going to break up again but instead had been treated to Matthew cooking him breakfast and apologizing. That was progress, he supposed, and never mind that he had never fought so much or so fervently with Penelope. All relationships had their ups and downs, didn’t they? And tonight was going to be wonderful, a chance to show Matthew that Percy could put serious effort into their relationship. That Percy could be _better_.

A door slammed, followed by the thumps of Matthew’s confident footsteps. Matthew was quite tall and strong, naturally beautiful with dark brown eyes and dark gold hair and lightly tan skin. He would look gorgeous in his Muggle suit, with his broad shoulders and his imperious posture, so different from Percy’s own scrawny figure and tendency to bow his shoulders. Well, there was nothing for it now, this was as good as Percy was ever going to look. He straightened the tie again and went out to the living room to greet his boyfriend.

Matthew was in the kitchen. The kettle clanged as he slammed it onto the stove, and he was rifling through the mugs when Percy entered. “Don’t you ever do the bloody dishes?” he snapped without looking up. Percy had, in fact, done the washing up that morning but that wasn’t what made him stop short in the corridor.

Matthew was not dressed formally. He was wearing a t-shirt, trousers, and his normal wool jacket. Had Percy gotten the date wrong? It was the 25th, wasn’t it? He must have gotten it confused somehow--- blimey, he was just now realizing that he had tied his tie too tight. Stupid mistake.

“What on earth are you wearing?”

Matthew, having finally found a suitably clean mug, had stopped moving and was staring at Percy. The tea kettle began to whistle. Percy fought the urge to loosen his tie. His throat felt thick and the tea kettle was too damn loud.

“I thought the reservations were—”

“We’re not going out tonight.” Matthew poured his hot water and practically threw the kettle into the sink. “I had a bloody awful day and I just want to relax.”

A heavy dread had settled in Percy’s stomach. Matthew’s voice was too sharp, his movements too aggressive. Percy had seen this mood before and always had trouble placating Matthew when he was like this. He felt like he should say something comforting but previous experience had taught him that it was better to let Matthew vent uninterrupted.

Matthew’s usually warm brown eyes tracked up and down Percy’s figure. They were still on opposite ends of the room, with Percy in the entrance to a short corridor and Matthew in the small kitchen, so Matthew had a good view of the outfit in its entirety. There was a moment of tense silence and Matthew’s lip curled minutely. “You look ridiculous.”

Any words Percy wanted to say were stuck in his throat. Damn this tie! He was warm too; he could feel his palms sweating. “Um,” he said. He could feel his face burning.

“Um,” mimicked Matthew, pitching his voice high. “Um. Is that all you can say? No ‘what can I do to help?’ or ‘I’m sorry you had a bad day’? How much did you spend on this shite? Do you think it makes you look _good_? Christ, I wouldn’t want to be seen out with you like this.”

The room was spinning. Percy concentrated on the fixed point of Matthew. He was dimly aware that he was standing very still, hardly daring to breathe. He didn’t try to speak; he had learned the values of stillness and silence during the war. Keep your head down and maybe, if you’re lucky, the storm will pass you over. If he pushed back he would only make everything worse.

Matthew was openly sneering now. “Just stand there, bloody useless,” he muttered, more to his tea than to Percy. Then his gaze snapped to Percy and the look in his eyes sent a chill through Percy’s bones that traveled down his spine and through his legs to root him to the floor. His breath caught.

“Take it off.” Matthew’s voice was soft but commanding. There was nothing suggestive or playful about the way he had spoken, just a quiet cold anger that washed over Percy in an unsettling wave. It took a Herculean effort to turn his body back towards his bedroom, where he would be able to close the door and hopefully block out Matthew’s cold storm. He tried not to think or feel.

“No!” Matthew snarled. Percy halted, confused. “Stay there and take off that ridiculous outfit.”

Neither man moved. Percy’s brain was fizzing with confusion and dread, trying to compute whether it was safer to follow Matthew’s orders or to fight back. His wand was tucked in his sleeve, brushing against his arm—but to use it against Matthew? Impossible! Even if he did hex Matthew, he had the weird idea that any spell would bounce harmlessly off him, because Matthew was immovable, inevitable, inhuman. He would get angry and then things would get _worse_. Percy grit his teeth and slowly, almost dreamily, began unbuttoning his waistcoat. His hands were shaking. He slid the waistcoat off and seriously considered folding it but before he could decide the silken fabric had slipped from his numb fingers and crumpled listlessly on the floor. Doggedly he undressed, while Matthew stared in malevolent silence. After a short time he was clad only in his skivvies and socks. He dared a peek at Matthew and saw that the other man was watching him with blank expectancy.

“You’re not finished yet.” Matthew’s quiet voice was deadly. He didn’t need to raise his voice to control Percy, and he knew it. Knew it and used it. He waved his hand in a ‘continue’ gesture.

Percy tried to be mechanical. He should focus on something else, he thought as he slowly peeled his shirt off. Broomstick codes? Those were always soothing, albeit in a slightly boring way. He removed one sock. _Section 3, subsection 004_ —why was his flat so cold?— _Requirement to receive and carry goods_. Another sock gone -- ( _a) On the tender of the legal or customary rate for goods offered for transportation_ —he hesitated at the waistband of his shorts-- _a common carrier shall receive and transport the goods_ —he stepped out of his shorts and crossed his arms _\-- A common carrier that violates Subsection 004 is liable_ … he couldn’t remember the rest of the code.

Matthew snorted softly. Percy glanced over. Matthew was regarding Percy with a look of open disgust. He glared scornfully, took up his tea mug, walked to the sofa, and picked up a book he had left on the side table. His manner suggested that Percy was now as unimportant as the discarded kettle, and not worthy of being addressed. Percy waited, weighing his options. Slowly, so slowly so as not to draw attention, he bent his knees and leaned down to start gathering his clothes. The bedroom was only a few steps away—he could just creep there, silently—

“I didn’t say you could move.” Matthew’s arresting eyes had pinned him down again. Percy froze. His wand, resting on the pile of limp clothes, was centimeters from his fingers. He straightened up, hunching his shoulders and trying not to cringe under Matthew’s stare. He was uncomfortably aware of cool air brushing his bare skin, of the gooseflesh raised on his arms and legs, of the slight ridges that his ribs formed under his skin. His hipbones looked angular from here, his every freckle exposed, and he felt so very naked. Matthew had seen him unclothed before, many times, but this felt different. This was the opposite of sexy and fun, this was him wanting to curl into a little ball and never look at anyone ever again. Shame was running laps around him; he was a powerful wizard but he was weak and useless, he should have anticipated this, he should have been better, he had failed everyone he had ever loved so he deserved this, he really did, how dare he try to get out of it by mentally focusing on boring things like regulations. He was boring and ugly and he was lucky to have Matthew, because even his own family didn’t like him. They said they did and they had been kinder since the war but he knew they were just being polite. If they loved him it was because they _had_ to, but Matthew was the only person outside of his family who bothered to spend time with Percy voluntarily. Penelope used to but it had been ages since they had talked and she must have much more important things to attend to.

Matthew had finished his tea and was reading, appearing for all the world like a serene, reasonable scholar. That was the thing about Matthew: he could look so innocuous, and was often so gregarious and friendly, that no one would believe Percy if he told them about Matthew’s darker moods. How would he describe this to them? _My boyfriend made me strip then had me stand in the corridor for a while_. That didn’t sound so bad. That was just light kinkiness. Matthew had never even hit him, although sometimes he looked like he wanted to; when he was angry he was threatening in a way that was difficult to define, all quiet maliciousness and cutting words. It was his words that hurt the most—so many small slights and insults piled on top of one another, and oh! the way he looked at Percy sometimes, like Percy’s very existence was offensive to him. Percy was used to such treatment, had grown used to it long before Matthew came along. He had weathered the mockery and invectives of his classmates and siblings and coworkers for years. Surely if so many people disliked him they couldn’t all be wrong. He had tried to be friendlier and more fun but nothing seemed to work so here he was, trembling and naked in his own flat, and he ought to be grateful for it.

The minutes seemed interminably long. Funny how time always slowed down when you wanted it to go quickly. At some point, unnoticed by Percy, his shame and dread had dissipated, leaving him feeling empty and blank. He looked at nothing in particular, noticing only Matthew’s movements when he turned pages. Matthew had removed his jacket and his strong beautiful arms were within Percy’s line of sight. His firm muscles danced lightly when he adjusted his hold on the book to turn the leaves. His hands were smooth and solid; those hands had held Percy down before, leaving deep purple marks behind. Even in his numbed state a small part of him was wondering how this night would end, if Matthew would want to stay, if he would want more than Percy could give right now, if it would matter what Percy wanted or didn’t. He found it difficult to care. Whatever happened would happen, and Percy would deal with it. He always did.

He exhaled slowly and concentrated on being a statue. His neck was itching and his glasses were sliding down his nose but his body didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was the whisper of turning pages and the lazy ticking of the clock. Breathe softly, he told himself. Be still and silent. The storm will pass.

**Author's Note:**

> So, where did this come from and why? I don’t know. Apparently my brain decided that today I’m processing trauma by vomiting out this story. 
> 
> Why Percy?
> 
> Firstly, are you a fic writer if you don’t torment characters you love?
> 
> We don’t have much canon information about Percy. We do know he tends towards pretentiousness (though to be fair he was a teenager for a lot of HP) and that he is a terrible judge of character. I’m 10000% sure that the big fight between him and his family was not because he was selfish or chose his job over them but was the culmination of years of anxiety and loneliness on his part. No one leaves their family over one fight if everything else is dandy. Anyway, since we don’t know much about him it’s easy to interpret his character and motivations in different ways. I like to explore how the war and his rocky relationship with his family affected him later in life.
> 
> I also have a lot of Percy Feelings. My headcanon for Percy is that he is bisexual. His relationship with Penelope was nice but eventually they settled into being good friends. After the war he struggled a lot and maybe got into one or two bad relationships, like the one with Matthew. Eventually he got help then met Audrey, and when he was emotionally ready they dated and got married and had children and life was wonderful for awhile. At some point they divorced (but again, stayed friends). Then Oliver, after years of quiet angsty pining, finally decided to shoot his shot, and he and Percy lived happily ever for the rest of their lives.
> 
> Side note that I do picture Percy as quite striking, tall and very thin with pointed features and loosely curly hair. In my mind he and Molly are the only curly-haired Weasleys. I don’t know why.
> 
> The title is from Courage by Anne Sexton


End file.
